After The Storm
by RowlingTribute91
Summary: They sacrificed their lives. But they didn't disappear forever. Chapter by chapter, fallen characters will take a journey in their new world. Each chapter features someone different, and each chapter stands on its own.
1. Wiress

"_There will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears,  
And love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears."_

-Mumford & Sons

**Wiress**

***There are SPOILERS here for people who haven't read my Wiress fanfictions!***

Everything is a blur at first. Death does that to you. Then, my eyes adjust. I've found myself in some new place. Funny. I thought death meant total blackness. But what I see is… the buildings of District 3. I've returned home. This can't be real.

"Hello?" I call out as I stand up. The city is so bare, empty of the thousands who usually stroll the streets. The majority of District 3 call this their home. So where _is_ everybody?

Then I remember: _I'm dead. _This must be some alternate universe that looks like Panem. A place for the dead to live out eternity. Which means… Joules should be around here. I begin running towards my family's apartment. From where I am, it's ten blocks away. I'm just too excited to walk. While I jog, I come to see more people. More dead faces.

Suddenly, I hear a girl's voice call my name. I stop running to see who it is.

"Kalia." She's still wearing the jacket and boots of her tribute uniform. Cato cut her down during the bloodbath last year. But her wounds are completely gone.

"What are you doing here?" she asks. "You're not…"

"It's true," I confirm. "I just died."

_I can speak normally again! _Once I adjust to this new fact, I tell her about the Quarter Quell.

"Who killed you?" Kalia asks.

I shrug. "He came up from behind. All I know is it was one of the men."

"Do you think it might've been… you know… Beet-"

"Don't you _dare_ accuse my husband of killing me!" I shout. "He was the love of my life! And… we were just about to have another kid." Hot tears are falling down my face.

"Oh. Wow." Kalia is starting to cry, too. "Wiress, I'm so sorry. About everything."

"This wasn't your fault."

Kalia puts her arms around me. "But I kept making fun of you, and I just… had no idea what you'd really been through. How'd you last so long, when I only made it through the first five minutes?"

"It's _not _because you're weak, I can tell you that." I hug her back, and I can't help wondering what it would've been like to hug my own daughter. The daughter that wasn't allowed to be born. "You were _incredibly_ strong, Kalia."

"Thanks," she replies. "I feel like I disappointed my family… I've always been such a disappointment."

"My father always told me, 'You're only a disappointment if you _think_ you're one'. Never forget that. You know, I've got a feeling that things in Panem are gonna change."

"What do you mean?"

"Right. You weren't there." I explain to her how Katniss and Peeta earned a double victory, how it might drive a rebellion soon. I can only hope they're doing well in the arena. And my poor Beetee…

I burst into another round of tears. He was hurting badly when I left. How long does he have before he joins me?

Kalia's eyes meet mine. "Hey, Wiress, I know some people that would want to see you. Come on."

She leads me through the city to an apartment complex. I know it well, because this is where I lived before moving into the Victor's Penthouse. Kalia had been my neighbor while we were alive, so it's only fitting that she's chosen to stay here. We ride in the elevator to the fourth floor; then she opens up the door to her apartment.

I take one look into the living room and I know we're not alone. First, I see a young boy, probably twelve years old. My former district partner, Cameron Lang. Sitting next to him is a girl who resembles me in nearly every way. Her skin is no longer bursting with rashes from the poison ivy that killed her. She's forever sixteen years old. _Joules! _

Kalia gestures to me. "As you can see, I brought a guest. She's new here, but she's been waiting a long time to see you two again."

"Hi," Cameron says warily. "Um… who are you?"

"Wait a minute!" Joules gets a good, long look at my face. "I think I know you… you look like my mother…"

"It's me," I say. "Wiress."

Cameron's mouth opens wide. "You're… you're so much older now. Does that mean…?"

"Yeah, Cameron. You're looking at the victor of the 55th annual Hunger Games." I can't help but grin, knowing that I honored his memory by winning.

Joules has remained quiet. "It _is _you," she exclaims in a low voice. She bolts to me full force and pulls me in. I hug her back just as tightly. Never mind that I'm old enough to be her mother now. We don't care.

"Cameron told me what you did for him," she continues. "When you didn't show up later, I had a feeling you'd won. I knew I was right! What's it like in the Penthouse?"

Her eyes sparkle as we settle on the couch and I tell them all about my life after victory. When I mention Beetee, Cameron gives me a mischievous grin.

"I _thought _you two were up to something," he teases.

A giggle comes out of me. "I named our son after you," I say. "His middle name is Cameron."

"I'm an aunt," Joules says happily, letting it roll off her tongue. "And Beetee's my brother-in-law."

"Yeah," I reply. Beetee was her district partner.

"You know what I told him the night before my Games?"

"What?"

"I said, 'You'd really like my sister'." She winks at me. "You two were made for each other. I don't know why it didn't happen sooner…"

"Because we never crossed paths at school," I say. "You were in all those classes with him, not me."

"Still, I should've set you two up." She snaps her fingers. "Darn it. Why didn't I think of that?"

I start laughing incessantly. How I missed Joules and her good sense of humor.

When I tell them how I died, there's not a dry eye among my companions. "How could they do that to you?" Cameron cries.

"Whoever it was, I think they were afraid that I could outsmart them. I'd figured out the arena, and somehow, they overheard my allies discussing it."

A string of silence fills the room, and I know what the others are thinking: We're all victims of the Capitol. We can't be angry at our killers because they were merely doing what they had to do for the sake of survival.

"I love you guys," I say. It takes everything in me not to sob. I thought Beetee's absence would make life here so empty. All I want is to feel his arms around me again. But with these wonderful people, I can move ahead. With them, I'm more than content.

**Author's note: You guys get to have some fun here! In your comments, tell me what ****deceased ****characters you want featured next, and I'll write from their POV. Here's the list of the ones I already plan on using:**

-Cato

-Mr. Everdeen

-Prim

-President Snow

-Rue

**Who else do you want to see? Let me know :) **


	2. Cato

**Cato**

***I've been paying attention to requests**. **Check my summary for the full list of characters!***

"Hey, Clove. Brutus. Come check this out."

It's been a year since I… well, you know… _died_. I still feel weird saying it. But I don't think I could've lived with myself if I'd become Victor, after taking so many lives. This is where I belong, in the dead people's version of District 2. I'm hanging by a harness at the top of the highest mountain in Panem. They say this used to be part of the Rocky Mountains. There aren't so many mountains now.

"We're almost there!" Clove yells from below. Soon, I see her head of dark hair popping up. She makes the final push to reach the peak, followed by a bald, burly man. He's puffing from the strain of climbing.

I can't help laughing. "Hey, Uncle Brutus, need a little help there?"

"Watch yourself, boy," he jokes. "_I'm_ the one who survived the Games, not you." Of course he would say that. _Clash of the egos._ My uncle died in the Quarter Quell not too long ago. That District 12 boy, Peeta Mellark; he snuck up on him and stabbed him in the chest multiple times. I guess Mellark's more violent than I thought he could be.

The three of us grow silent, looking out at the other mountains. Somewhere below them is the Victor's Village, and the neighborhood where Clove and I spent our short lives.

"Really makes you feel small," Brutus says. "Doesn't it?"

Clove nods.

I scoff. "Personally, I don't feel small. I feel on top of the world!" I stretch out my arms, hands open as if I control the mountains themselves. Clove bursts into giggles. I haven't heard her laugh like that since we were training at the Capitol, and it's music to my ears. All I can do in reply is smile at her. Believe it or not, even a handsome guy like me can have trouble with girls.

After we get our fill of the amazing view, we start the climb back down the mountain. I used to do this all the time when I was alive. The only difference is, now, I don't have to worry about getting hurt or dying. Nothing can hurt me anymore (but I can't look at dogs in the same way again).

I follow Clove and Brutus to his house in the Victor's Village. There are so many houses, I've lost count, and only half of them are occupied here. The surviving District 2 victors are either mentoring at the Capitol, watching the Games from home, or they're still in the arena… which reminds me of the woman who mentored me alongside my uncle.

When we get to his porch, I ask Brutus, "Do you think Enobaria's okay?"

"She must be, if she hasn't showed up here yet." His tone gives away how much he cares about her. Once upon a time, they were lovers.

"I miss my mom and dad," Clove says out of nowhere. "I miss my friends, my dog… everything."

"Me too," I reply. "I know it's hard, but think of it like this: The longer we wait, the longer they live."

She squeezes my hand. "True. Don't you ever wonder what our lives would be like if we hadn't volunteered?"

"Of course." I took the place of a fourteen-year old boy named Jem Ravenwell. When I stepped up to volunteer, he was overwhelmed with relief.

"The thing about that," Brutus says, "is if you keep wondering 'what if?', then you'll never make peace with the choices you've made."

_Truer words have never been spoken_, I think. A smile spreads across my face. "Since when did you become a wise guy?"

"It took me a long, long time, kid, but I realized that I can't hang on to the past. If I did, then my victims would haunt me every day. I have to remember that I only killed them because I was pushed into a terrible situation."

"Do you really believe that, Brutus?" Clove asks.

"Absolutely."

"It hasn't hit me yet, though. That I… I'm a… murderer." She instantly bursts into tears. "They didn't see it coming because… because I was too cowardly to do it with my bare hands. All it took was a fling of my knife."

"Hey," I tell her, "Don't beat yourself up. You just wanted to survive, same as me. That doesn't mean you're not still the fun-loving, spunky girl I've known for so long." She doesn't say a word, but I put my arm over her shoulders.

"Thanks, Cato," she says with a sniffle. Then, something outside the window grabs her attention. "Look. It's snowing!"

I love snow as much as she does, so I say, "Come on. We'll put on our coats and have a snowball fight!"

"All right. Hope you're ready to lose…"

"Not a chance!" I stand up, giving her my hand to help her get to her feet.

"You didn't have to do that," she mutters, blushing.

"Yes I did." Clove really doesn't know what a great girl she is.

With our coats on, we head to the front yard. There's already a few inches of snow on the ground from a blizzard two days ago, and I'm in the mood to make snowballs. I roll one up and throw it at Clove, catching her by surprise.

"Hey!" she exclaims. "That's not fair!" But then she laughs, reaching down to make her own snowball. She flings it towards my head.

"Ah," I joke. "You got me!" I crumple to the ground, pretending to be hurt.

Clove sticks her tongue out to let snowflakes fall on it. Suddenly, she's never looked so beautiful. I stand and move a little closer to her.

"Clove?"

She turns to fix her brown eyes on me. "Yeah?"

My nerves start working overtime, but I can't let them get to me. I take her hand and pull her close, pressing my lips on hers. Clove throws her arms around me to return the kiss. Everything is crystal clear now. We'll get through this afterlife together.

**Author's Note: Next up… Foxface!**


	3. Foxface

**Foxface**

I knew what I was doing when I ate that nightlock. I'd found myself in the top four, and that's when I realized: I couldn't win unless I became a killer. I didn't want to end up being like my mother, who was victor of the 52nd Hunger Games. Every day, she'd remind me of the lives she took.

"Marissa," she said before I went into the launch pad, "Please don't think you have to go on a killing spree. You'll just end up being eaten by guilt for the rest of your life. Don't kill at all, if you can help it."

I can't imagine how she felt when she became my mentor. Training your own daughter for a fight to the death…

Now that I'm dead and gone, I hope she understood why I did it. Things are so much simpler here, where District 5 is happier, kinder. Here, I can walk around without being afraid. Without any worries at all.

On this beautiful morning, I'm with a guy who meant everything to me when I was alive: My late boyfriend, Trevor. We're at my house in the Victor's Village, deeply concentrated in a game of chess. It's always been our favorite game, one of the few things that our district didn't forbid. I move the pawn into place, and now I've earned the right to say, "Check mate!"

Trevor snaps his finger. "Aw. Darn it. You need to stop being so smart."

"You need to stop being so cute," I tease. "Do I get anything for winning?"

"Oh. Right. Loser kisses the winner." He leans in to let our lips meet. It feels just like the first time we kissed, tender and lingering.

I could get used to this. We've got so much in common, and, like me, the Hunger Games ended his life. Trevor had been a tribute a year before I was. It was the hardest thing, to watch him suffer and die. I never thought I'd see him again. But the thing is… I haven't told him how I really died. Instead, I said that Cato ran me through with a spear. Maybe now would be a good time to admit the truth.

"Trevor?" I fidget with my fingers, not looking him in the eye. "Remember what I said about… my death?"

He nods.

"Well… I lied. I… it was getting difficult to live around all the violence. And you know me. I never wanted to even consider killing anyone. I was so close to winning, but…" Tears begin falling, streaming onto my cheeks. "I couldn't… stay there. So I… ate a handful of nightlock."

Trevor is absolutely quiet. This can't be good. He's always silent if he's upset or angry. When he finally speaks, he says, "You gave up."

_Ouch._ I'd never thought of it that way.

"No," I argue. "I was keeping myself from becoming something I wasn't. How would you like it if 'killer' was on your list of accomplishments?"

"I know what you mean, but… you still chose to cop out."

I scoff. "After being in the arena for more than a _week_! How long were you in there again? Three days?"

"Yeah."

"So don't tell me that you wouldn't have wanted to do the same thing."

More silence. I really don't know what I should do if Trevor shuns me, but he's not that kind of guy. At least, I hope not.

When he finally speaks, he says, "Don't take this the wrong way, Marissa, but I need some space. I'm going to see Jed." Jed is his brother, who died of illness when he was fifteen.

"Okay," I say. Trevor's not breaking up with me, thank goodness. And besides, I remember, it's Jed's birthday.

Trevor gives me a peck on the cheek, and I feel somewhat better about the whole situation. How would I have felt if _he'd_ killed himself? I wouldn't have taken it well, either. He's the best boyfriend I could ask for.

When he's gone, I slump into my bed to read a book, to lose myself in another world. It makes the afterlife less lonely. Seriously, it feels like centuries since the last person showed up here (but what do I know? I haven't been dead for long). Nobody warned me about how desolate this life would be. District 5 just isn't the same without all my neighbors, friends, and family.

I finish the book in no time. I could read wickedly fast back when I was alive, so this comes as no surprise. I wonder if I've beat my record of three hours. Since I don't have to sleep, at that rate, I could get through five books a day. But even that gets boring.

By the next day, I'm unbelievably restless. What's going on with Trevor? Why, in this world where I can do anything, am I discontent? Something's missing.

I hear someone call my name. It doesn't sound like Trevor. It sounds like…

"_Mom_?"

"Marissa?" Her voice grows closer, until she appears at my doorway. I should be happy that I'm reunited with the woman who gave me life. Still, something's not settling in my stomach. Then I see the black and white swimsuit she's wearing.

_Oh no_. I wanted to see her again… anyplace other than this.

"Sweetie pie," she says. We catch each other in a long embrace, just like old times. "Don't worry. I'm not angry about what you did."

I look up at her face, holding tears in. "B-but… How…?"

"Two words: Quarter Quell."

It's not hard to figure out. The Capitol made her go back into the arena, and she wound up dead.

"Was it awful," I ask, "the way you…"

She only holds me tighter. "That's not what's important. I'm just so happy to see you."

"Me too."

"Somebody else followed me here," she says.

Now I'm thinking, _who else died? _But as she steps into my room, I see a boy behind her. A handsome, tall boy with mousy brown hair. Trevor.

"Hey now," he says. "You don't need to cry. Your mom's not suffering anymore."

I become aware of my tears, tears that I didn't know I was crying. They stain my cheeks. Trevor crosses the room and gently wipes the tears with his thumb.

"You always look on the brighter side," I tell him. "Even when you lost your whole family. Thanks for being here."

"Of course. And I plan on being here for a long time."

Mom nudges him with her elbow, grinning. "Go on. Show it to her."

"Show me what?" I ask nervously.

He digs into his pocket and hands me a tiny black box. Inside it is a silver bangle bracelet. I gasp at its beauty. This means something entirely different in our district than it does anywhere else.

"Marissa Jacqueline Ravenwell," he says, "I'd love for you to become my wife."

Well, that takes speech right out of me. I find my voice enough to say: "But I'm sixteen, and you're seventeen! That's way too young."

"I know," he agrees. "Just think, though: we were together for a year when we were both alive. But we're not getting older. We're stuck at these ages."

He's got a point. I face my mother, who's still smiling. "You two are a perfect match, Marissa."

When I held the nightlock in my hands, I'd thought about me and Trevor, what path we could've taken. And I saw us getting married. He's the love of my life. Why should it be different now?

"You know I love you," I say to him, taking his hand. "I can't imagine anything better than marrying you."

He looks so happy, I think he might explode. So am I. "Then let me put this on." He lifts the bracelet out of the box and clasps it around my wrist. I nearly break down from joy. Somehow, I've found happiness in a dark place. For the first time, life is good.

**Author's note: I called her Marissa because according to a deleted scene from the movie, that's her name. Next up… Mr. Everdeen!**


	4. Mr Everdeen

"_And I took you by the hand  
And we stood tall;  
And remembered our own land,  
What we lived for."_

-Mumford & Sons

**Mr. Everdeen**

My last moments are still clear as day, even seven years later. I had stepped into the mine shaft with my crew… and I felt a rumble underneath us. It happened so fast, I didn't have time to think. Then I woke up here, in what looks like District 12.

Today, I sit outside my house with Riley Hawthorne. We'd been best friends for decades before we died in the mine explosion.

"How do you think the kids are holding up?" he asks me.

"Well," I say, "they're alive. That's the most we can hope for." It's the harsh reality of living in District 12. "Gale must have his hands full with your younger ones."

"Yeah." Riley sighs. "He's the man of the house now. Hazelle was always overworked by them, even when I was there."

"Mari's probably taught our girls everything she knows about medicine," I tell him. "They'll make great nurses someday, I'm sure. Then again… I don't think Katniss would be much for it. She once told me that she wants to do nothing but hunt."

"So did Gale."

We burst into laughter. It feels so good to laugh, when our lives were mostly full of despair.

I add, "How old are they now? Seventeen and nineteen? Maybe they're together as we speak. You never know."

"That would be a great match."

"And I couldn't ask for better in-laws, my friend," I reply, grinning. It's fun to imagine what could be going on in the real world, especially when it's something as pleasant as a wedding.

Riley gives a big sigh. "If you don't mind, I'm off to the Hob. See what I can get from old man Nelson."

I wave him goodbye, and I stand up to stretch, breathing in fresh air. The weather here never goes bad. There's always a perfect, blue sky, and the temperature's never unbearable.

Then, I hear a pair of footsteps. Somebody's approaching me. My heart drops in my stomach when I see her. It's a little girl, about twelve, maybe thirteen years old. Her blonde hair is drawn into two braids. She looks just like her mother did when she was young.

"Primrose?" I ask. "I don't know if you remember me much, but-"

"Of course I do." She smiles. "Daddy!"

Prim runs into my arms, and I hold her like I always did when she was scared at night. Then it dawns on me. There's only one reason why she'd be here. My little girl is dead.

"You died in the Games, didn't you?" I ask.

"Actually, no. It's a long story…"

"Go on and tell it. We've got all the time in the world here."

What she tells me is nothing short of incredible. Prim _was_ reaped, the poor girl. But my darling Katniss volunteered for her.

"If she was a tribute, then… why isn't she with us?" I wonder aloud.

Prim speaks the thought that just comes into my head: "Dad, she won. She _won_!" I can tell how proud Prim is of her sister.

"Wow." My daughter, the first victor from District Twelve in about twenty years! "I should've realized. That kid had a knack for survival ever since she was five."

"You should've seen her," Prim gushes. "I mean, the first time…"

I could swear I'm going deaf. "Wait. What?"

"The Third Quarter Quell was a few months ago, and guess who they put in?"

It doesn't take a genius for me to understand. "The former victors."

"Yeah." She goes on to talk about what Katniss did to the arena. "They took her out, along with five others."

"That doesn't sound good," I say.

"Well, like I said, that was months ago. As far as you and I know, she's still alive."

"Then…" -I never thought I'd have to ask Prim this question- "what happened to you?"

"We went to war against the Capitol, and I was a medic on the field. I just remember walking towards President Snow's mansion. After that… I… I died the same way you did."

"Oh, sweetheart." A girl of Prim's age shouldn't have to know this pain. Shouldn't have had such a short life. Then again, everyone in Panem knows what it means to suffer. But there will be no more of that now.

"Care for a piggyback ride, little miss?" I ask.

"Don't mind if I do," she replies, curtsying. Prim jumps on my back, and when she's securely in place, I head away from our house to the forest. I never spent any time with her in here; just Katniss. I would've brought Prim when I was alive, but she was too young at the time.

When we get to my favorite tree, I set Prim down. "This is where I kept my bow and arrows. Where I taught Katniss how to hunt. Now I can teach you."

"What do I do first?"

"Well," I explain, "you hold the bow in your left hand, and be sure to secure the arrow on it before you get ready to shoot. Watch me do it…"

The day ticks by as we make up for lost time. Prim's extraordinarily smart, so she catches on quickly, just like Katniss did. In the final test, I lay out some objects, and she knocks them out one by one.

I can't stop beaming. "You've got perfect aim. Great job today, kiddo."

"It's all because of you, Dad," she insists, taking my hand.

"Nah. You did it because you're a natural."

Prim giggles. "But I wouldn't be half as good if you hadn't shown me the right way to shoot."

"Okay, okay," I concede. "You win." I still haven't taken the smile off of my face. We begin the journey home, jumping and laughing like old times. I remember helping her fall asleep on so many foodless nights. But I shouldn't dwell on what's already happened. Everything we went through is past, and the future is full of possibilities.


	5. Finnick

**Finnick **

The ocean's really calm at the moment, and that's just how I like it. I used to go looking for shells here when I was little. Waves would just get in the way.

"Find anything good?" Mags asks me.

"Yeah." I wave a giant conch shell, still amazed at my luck.

Mags comes to my side and marvels at the shell's peach color. "Wow," she says. "That's the largest, most beautiful shell I've ever seen." It's nice to hear her speak clearly without dentures. She reminds me of my grandma Dee, who's still alive.

"You can keep it if you want," I tell her, and she reaches out her hand to take it.

"Thanks, Finn." That's her nickname for me. She gives my cheek a kiss, which makes me cringe. I didn't even let my mom do that. Just because I love them both doesn't mean I'm not a grown man!

Mags chuckles at my expression. She's always had a great laugh.

I pull a picture out of my pocket. In it is a beautiful girl who's staring out at the beach, her long, red hair flowing behind her. Annie. All I want is to kiss her, just one last time. Our wedding was everything I'd dreamed it would be. Looking back to my victory, I didn't think any girl would understand me… unless she was a victor as well. I wonder how our baby's doing. Probably not even born yet, though.

Mags puts her arm around my shoulder. "You're thinking about them, aren't you?"

"Every day," I say.

"I know it's hard. I miss my family all the time. Someday, Annie will tell your child how you died fighting for what was right. And he or she will say, 'my dad was a hero'. You should be proud of what you did."

Her words surprise me. "You mean, proud of winning the Games by trapping and killing anyone in my path, back when I was too young to even really comprehend it?"

"No!" she argues. "In the arena, you didn't have much space for selflessness, because it could've gotten you killed. Heaven knows, I treated my first district partner like crap. But _outside_, you got the chance to show the Capitol what you really thought of their little 'games'. _That_'s what you'll be remembered for."

"And you'll be known as the old lady who sacrificed herself."

Mags shrugs. "I wouldn't call it sacrifice. I thought I was paying a debt to the tributes I killed."

"You and your kind heart," I mutter, turning my gaze to the sand. "You know how hard it was to watch you walk through that poisonous fog?" We still haven't spoken about it since I got here.

She ruffles my hair and replies, "I'm sorry you had to see that. Believe me, I wanted to live." A single tear drops down her face. "But we lived in a horrible place that didn't give us the _chance_ to. And by 'live', I mean, r_eally _live. The kind of world where the Hunger Games doesn't exist."

I chuckle, and Mags joins in.

"I know, right?" She beams at me. "Hard to imagine."

"But it's not impossible." It takes me a second to realize that I've said this aloud. And I don't regret it. It feels good to say what I want to say, to actually be optimistic for a change; No Peacekeepers, Gamemakers, or President Snow to interrupt. "I hope this rebellion wasn't for nothing. Annie, my kid, and everybody in Panem; they all deserve a better life."

"So did you," Mags whispers.

I'm stunned into silence, not because her words surprise me, but because I know my family remains in the real Panem. They could be getting tortured as we speak. That's a fate worse than death, if you ask me.

She merely responds by saying, "I get it, Finn. I'm worried, too."

I try to hold back tears; they still manage to escape me. "Is there any way to make it stop?"

"We don't have control over what happens."

"Well, I hate that!" I exclaim, plopping onto the sand, crossing my legs. "Why can't _we_ play the Gamemakers for once? This whole 'not knowing'… It's gonna drive me insane!"

Mags sits next to me, and her eyes are shimmering with water. "That's how I felt in the arena. Like something was always around the corner, about to destroy me."

I nod in agreement, remembering the paranoia and uncertainty. Even though I was savvy with my traps, my victory wasn't guaranteed. It had all come down to the final battle: me vs. the boy from District 1. While I struggled to stay alive, other fourteen-year olds in the Capitol were enjoying banquets, movies, sports, or just doing nothing. It didn't matter that I'd trained for two years before it; the arena was crueler than I'd anticipated. Mags sent me meds that saved me on more than one occasion. I only thought it was fair that I take care of her during the Quarter Quell.

"We could've made it, Mags."

"You think so?" she asks.

"Maybe…. I would've _wanted _you to."

She pulls me in for a hug, making me blush. "Oh, Finn. Life's just not fair that way. If it were, you would be my grandson."

"But you didn't even have a child," I say.

"I know," she replies. "I could always pretend to adopt you." We laugh incessantly for what seems like ages. Then she finally lets go of me. "Race you back to the Victor's Village!"

"You're on." I shoot her a big smile as we rise to our feet. "I'll give you a head start, just in case you need it."

"If you do that, you'll be eating my dust, Finnick Odair!" She bolts away suddenly, kicking sand in my face. I charge after her and I manage to trip about five times before I catch up with her. I guess Mags was right. Oh well. Here, there are no games to win. I can simply… _be._

**Note from the author: I'm still taking requests for dead characters that you want to hear from! I'm working on Cinna, Prim, President Snow, and Rue. Tell me if I missed your favorite character.**


	6. Cinna

**Cinna**

Well, I did my job. That's as much as I can say. It got me killed, but maybe something good will come out of it. Whatever happens now, I don't have any regrets.

I'm attempting a new design project, but so far, I've barely made a stitch. My eyes can't move from my apartment's television screen. Apparently, I can still watch what everybody else is watching, even though I'm dead. It's the third day of the Quarter Quell. I keep worrying about Katniss. She's such a modest girl, not to mention kind; after all, she wouldn't be in this mess if she hadn't volunteered for her sister.

By now, she and her allies know all about the arena. I love how they're working together. The sky's pitch black as they prepare a plan. They're standing by a tree that will be struck by lightning, which comes every twelve hours. At the exact moment it happens, Katniss ties a knife onto her arrow and shoots. Fire explodes everywhere. When the smoke clears, the remaining tributes are being carried up into the air by metallic claws.

"No!" I scream. They can't hear me, of course. But if I was beaten to death because of a _dress_, I can't even fathom what the Capitol will do to _them_. There's no point of keeping the TV on anymore. The Games are over.

I can't just sit here and wonder. I leave my apartment and head for the training center. Almost nobody's in there, but… I don't know what else to do. That's what hurts. Not being able to do a single thing. The gym is how I've been getting my anger out since I died.

At the spear station, I take one and heave it at the target with all my strength. I manage to hit close to the bulls-eye.

"Might wanna focus better next time," I hear somebody by me say. It turns out to be… my brother, Jax. He's my twin in almost every way, but I was born five minutes earlier.

"Jax? What are you doing here?"

He narrows his eyes. "Well, thanks to your little stunt with Katniss Everdeen's dress, the Capitol thought it wasn't enough to kill you. So they shot me."

"Are you saying you hate me because I stood up for my own opinions?" I ask, starting to feel a surge of anger.

"I'm saying you brought it upon yourself. It's _your_ fault that I'm dead."

He couldn't have said it more harshly. The words cut me so deep, deeper than the injuries I died from.

"Didn't you shed even one tear when you watched the Games?" I went on. "Or did you think they were _fake_? Because I can tell you up front, they weren't. I dressed a girl tribute two years in a row. _Two _times, she thought she was gonna die. I'll always remember the way she looked at me when she went into her launch tube. For all I know, she's dead now, too."

"You don't get it, Cinna-"

"Oh, I don't? How'd you feel when you saw that District 2 boy get eaten alive? You think he deserved it?" I hope I sound menacing, but my voice falters near the end of the sentence. It was hard enough watching that terrible fight with wolf mutts. So much blood, gore, screaming...

Jax moves his eyes up to the ceiling. "I don't know _what _to think. I've just trained myself to be… _numb_ during the Games. How could you put yourself at risk, knowing that you'd die? Mom and Dad were heartbroken when they found out. So was I."

He hardly ever shows emotion, but his eyes are watering as he says this. I wonder if I went too far with Katniss' dress. _Was_ I selfish when I made it, not even thinking about my family, friends, or the rest of my prep team? After a minute of contemplation, I decide otherwise.

"I didn't feel like my life mattered so much," I argue, "when twenty three kids have to die, every year, for no reason!"

"You're crazy, Cinna. Yeah, the Games are cruel, but we couldn't do anything to help them. It's been part of Panem for seventy five years. What made you think that _you_ had to be the one to start a rebellion?"

"I didn't start it. I just pushed it along."

"So what? You can't change tradition so easily, you know. Especially not under the leadership of a teenage girl."

"STOP IT," I demand. This is getting way out of hand. "Katniss started this on her own, _without _my help. She's the one who wanted to give the Capitol no victors." I pause, letting a sigh escape my lips. It does no good for us to be fighting. Which is exactly what I say next.

The lines in Jax's face soften, and he replies, "Sometimes, I wish I could've been as brave as you. But when I found out you were dead, my first thought was, 'He did it all for nothing'. Maybe I'll be proved wrong."

"Of course you will," I joke. "Have a little faith in me, bro. Now, what do you say we try out the weight-lifting and see who can lift more?"

"You know I'm gonna win that," Jax replies, grinning. That's my brother for you. He loves healthy competition whenever he can get it.

I wave his comment away easily as we stroll to the weights station. "Psh, Jax. I've got the record of most weight lifted between us, remember?"

"Bring it on!"

And just like that, the past has faded. Starting over will be my greatest journey yet.


	7. Prim

**Prim**

So this is what being dead feels like. Day by day, Dad and I go out to the forest and practice shooting. Then we come home and have a nice meal. Honestly, I wouldn't have it any other way. I barely had any time with him when he was alive.

Today, I drop by Mayor Undersee's house. His entire family is in there. I go to Madge's room, and I find her sitting on her bed, scribbling into a journal.

"Hey," she says, smiling at me.

"Are you writing?" I ask.

"Yeah. I always wanted to be an author, but my mother said I had to focus on more important things."

"What's it about?"

"A girl fighting for her life in a dangerous competition where only one person can survive." She grimaces, knowing how close to reality it is (or was) for us. How close I came to that fate. "I thought it was a story that needed to be told."

"Well, it _does_," an unknown voice says. That's when I notice another girl sitting by Madge. It nearly scares me to death, because she's been so quiet. The girl looks so much like Madge that I have to wonder if they're related.

Madge points to the mystery girl and says, "This is my aunt, Maysilee Donner."

"Aunt?" I ask. "But you look too young-"

"She died in the Games."

"Oh!" I exclaim, turning my eyes to Maysilee. "Sorry."

Maysilee just shrugs. "You didn't know. It was twenty five years ago. So… Madge told me you're Marigold Fawcett's- I mean, Everdeen's- daughter."

"You knew her?"

"_Knew_ her? She was one of my best friends. Is she okay these days?"

I swallow hard. It's a pretty sensitive question for anyone in my family. "She lives with my sister," I manage to say. "They're getting by, I guess."

"Right," Maysilee replies softly. "I heard there's a rebellion going on. That must be how you died, isn't it?"

I nod, trying not to cry. "Mom and Katniss… they must be so sad, now that I'm gone."

"The Mari I knew was strong," she says. "Hopefully, she and your sister are leaning on each other-"

"But she fell off the deep end when my dad died," I argue. "She literally wouldn't speak for weeks. Katniss had to hunt every day to feed us. How can they possibly find any hope now?"

Then I think of Gale. I miss him already. I always wanted a brother, and he fit that role perfectly, bringing us food and making me laugh; he even let me cry into his shoulder when Katniss volunteered at the reaping.

"I know what you mean," Madge says, bringing my mind back to her room. "Life's hard enough without the Games. Add that in, and you've got a never-ending circle of hell. I keep wondering how I would feel if I'd been reaped."

"Scared out of your wits," I mutter.

I remember thinking that I'd just been stabbed in the heart, and my body had started shaking as I walked towards the Justice Building. Then, out of the blue:

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute."

I'd seen how pale my sister's face was, as she realized that she'd just signed herself up to die. But I couldn't be angry at her. To have someone who would lay down her life for me... it was mind-boggling.

Madge jumps her to feet, and without warning, she throws her arms around me. "I didn't mean to dig up old bad memories, Prim. You were really brave that day."

"Well, _you_ were brave when they started bombing us," I reply, hugging her in return. "I learned a lot from you. That you have to defend what's yours, no matter the cost. I won't lie, though; I was a mess when I found out you were dead."

"Aw. Don't say that." I hear her sniffle, like she's about to cry.

"It's true," I continue. "Why do the nicest people have to die? First my dad, then you and your whole family… nearly everyone in District 12… You didn't do anything wrong."

"Neither did you and I," Maysilee interjects, patting my back gently. Even though she never made it past sixteen, she seems as mature as my mom. I guess we're on the way to being friends here, then.

Madge looks at me for a moment and grimaces. "Nobody said life was fair. All I know is, I did what I could with the life I had, even if it was short. Katniss would want you to remember that."

"I'll try," I mumble, but my words quickly turn to sobs. She simply keeps hold of me, and Maysilee joins us.

For the first time, Katniss doesn't have to worry about me anymore. I'm in good hands.


	8. Rue

**Rue **

"_Get over your hill and see_

_What you find there,_

_With grace in your heart_

_And flowers in your hair."_

-Mumford & Sons

I've no idea how long I've been here. Decades, probably. But I still gather fruit by climbing our orchard trees. Who knew death would bring me back to District 11? Don't get me wrong, though; this place is _much _better. For the first time in my life, I'm safe.

A woman's voice calls to me: "You come on down from there, Rue! You've done plenty for today."

I peer down to find Seeder. She's kind of taken my momma's place since I was a tribute. It pains me and makes me happy to know that my momma remains alive after all this time, but my daddy wasn't so lucky once he contracted an illness that killed many in District 11. Two of my sisters died from it, too.

I climb to the ground, toting my basket on one arm.

"Have fun?" Seeder asks.

I nod, gesturing to my basket. "I got us some fresh peaches."

"Someone say peaches?"

I jump in shock, because I don't know where the male voice I hear is coming from. Then Chaff appears by my shoulder. He reaches into my basket for a peach. With his good hand, of course.

"Oh, stop it!" Seeder exclaims, frowning at Chaff. "You done give little Rue a heart attack!"

Chaff merely laughs and takes a giant bite into his peach. Some of its juice flies onto my shirt. I tilt my head back, giggling. He's always had a good sense of humor, even when he was drunk, and honestly, he made me feel calmer about being a tribute.

"Are you guys coming for dinner today?" I ask.

They nod.

"Of course," Chaff says. "It's not like we're busy or anything." He bursts into laughter once more. I wish _I_ could have such a good attitude about being dead. But I'll never get used to it. I can't help but wonder what would've happened to me if I hadn't been reaped. I'd probably be an old lady by now, like Seeder. I have to stifle a chuckle at this thought.

My former mentors follow me home, where Papa sits on the porch, reading.

"Bout time you got back," he teases. "And I see you brought some guests!"

Seeder smiles at him. "'Evening, Pat."

"Hello there, Seeder," he says, tipping the old brown hat that he always wears. "Another fine day in District 11."

"Never thought I'd heard somebody say that," Chaff remarks.

Seeder puts a hand on her hips. "Yeah, I know that's right. The peacekeepers took my husband and kid from me."

"I had no idea you…"

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Rue. Happened before you were born. Haven't seen them since, but they're not dead. At least I can be thankful for that."

If I'd been expecting anything, it sure wasn't this. I thought Seeder told me everything. Then again, she never did say how she died. She never told me who won the 74th Hunger Games, either…

Which brings me to ask: "Katniss won, didn't she?"

I watch her face for an answer. In response, she bobs her head up and down. "The District 12 boy won, too. Tore the country apart."

"Are you serious?" I'm cupping a hand over my mouth in shock.

"You need to sit down so I can tell you the whole story."

For the next few minutes, my former mentor talks about how the Capitol crowned not one, but _two_ victors. She paints a grim picture of Panem in rebellion, of the old man who was shot for singing _my _mockingjay song. Then she explains the last Quarter Quell.

It leaves me completely speechless. After a long pause, I ask, "Why?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I don't know. But now we're both in a better place, so let's go have fun with the people we love, okay? I'm hungry."

"Me too," I agree. We can eat all the food we want here. I don't ever plan on taking it for granted, not when my life used to depend on what I could find.

She leads me inside. My sisters Iris and Violet, mixing together a giant bowl of salad. Iris lived to be fourteen and Violet's nineteen. And I'm still stuck at twelve. Me, their older sister. It's kind of funny when you think about it. They set the bowl down at our table, and all of us dig in to eat. We've got potatoes, peaches, salad, beef… it's a feast compared to how we used to eat. I chew through it so quickly that I don't bother shutting my mouth.

"Manners, young lady!" Chaff exclaims.

Seeder jabs him with her elbow. "Look who's talking!"

Before long, all of us are flashing smiles and laughing, sharing memories of good times. I couldn't ask for better people to be in my honorary family.

"You should let them come over more often," my father says when they're gone, leaning on his chair. "They obviously took care of you when I couldn't."

I put my arm around him. "Oh, Papa. I love them a lot, but they can never replace you."

"Good," he says, lowering his voice. "Cause you'll always be your daddy's favorite girl. Don't tell your sisters."

"Okay, I won't," I whisper to him.

"What's that you said?" Iris asks, grinning mischievously. Violet is right beside her, wearing the same expression.

Papa begins to blush. "Oh, man. I've been caught."

"It's okay," Violet says sweetly. "We know you secretly love me more."

Iris folds her arms and stares at our sister. "Oh, really? Let's see who cleans her side of the room faster. Whoever wins is Papa's favorite. Aaaand… GO!"

They run off down the hall, pushing each other playfully. Haha. It warms my heart to know that they never grew out of their games.

"I'm gonna go outside for a walk," I tell Papa.

He waves me goodbye, and I leave the house just as the sunset comes. I'll never get enough of those beautiful colors. I don't really have a destination; all I know is, my life wasn't completely bad. I got decent amounts of food, had a full family to care about and care for; not to mention a giant garden of flowers that my Ma tended to. We'd eat them for dinner sometimes. The flowers remind me… that I died peacefully. Some might disagree. But I was carried into this life by the song of a stranger. So, the world can't be all bad.

"Hello?" somebody says. My head pivots in the voice's direction.

"Who's there?" I ask.

I see a lanky, sandy-haired boy walking in my direction. He looks slightly familiar… Then I realize where I've seen him before: in the arena.

"Your name's Rue, right?" he asks.

"Yeah. And I know you, of course. You're the boy who killed me."

"Marvel," he tells me.

I turn my back on him, sulking. "Why should I care about your name? You drove a spear through me." I'm not usually this angry, but I mean, come on. You'd be angry with your killer, too. He took me away from my family so young, before I ever got to experience the wonderful parts of life.

"Nothing I say is gonna change what happened," he admits, "but… does it mean anything to you if I say that I'm sorry?"

"NO."

He grips my wrist, and as hard as I try, I can't escape. "Please, Rue," he implores. "I walked all the way here from District 1, so you need to let me talk. I trained for years, and if anyone even _thought_ about backing out, they were never seen again. I had no choice. My district _forced_ me to volunteer because it was my last reaping year."

"Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?" I ask. "Cause, I hate to break it to you, but your people in District 1 have it so easy. You didn't have supervisors breathing down your neck, just waiting for you to do something stupid. You didn't have to scrounge for every meal. You don't know what it's like to not know if you'll even survive another day."

"Just because we specialize in luxury doesn't mean we don't feel oppressed," he says. "We look good on the outside, but on the inside, we're puppets of the Capitol as much as your people in District 11 are."

His words are starting to help me calm down. "I guess that's true," I mutter. "You really didn't want to kill me, did you?"

"Of course not," Marvel insists. "So, are we okay?" He reaches out his hand, and we shake on it.

It's not much. But it's a start.

"Yes, we're okay." I breathe in deeply. "I forgive you."

"Thank you," he replies. "So long, then."

"So long."

Marvel's figure gradually vanishes as he makes his departure. Crickets and frogs are creating music together nearby, just like old times. I love falling asleep to their sounds.

Another sound reaches my ears. Somebody else is calling for me now. _How'd I get so popular?_ I wonder.

"Rue!" the voice says again.

Then I see her. A woman runs to me that I've never seen here before. Her hair's gray, her skin's wrinkled, and she has glasses, but I would know that face anywhere. The last face I ever saw when I was alive.

"Welcome, Katniss," I say.


End file.
